Please bring me a circa 1975 Kenmore Washing Machine for Christmas.

Santa, I know you’re very busy and I don’t mean to be overly fussy—you can bring me a Whirlpool if you must, but I insist it be a model from 1975-1985.

Sorry, was that too demanding?  I shouldn’t use the word “insist” with you Santa, and I know you spend most of your time building toys for kids.  That’s as it should be.

I’m sure if you check in your big book, you’ll see that I haven’t asked for anything since the She-Ra’s Princess of Power Crystal Castle in the late 1980s.

(Thank you very much for that, by the way.)

I know I shouldn’t ask.

But Santa, I’m desperate.

When I moved into my house, there was a lovely old Kenmore top-loading agitator.

I can admit now that I didn’t know what I had until it was gone.

It didn’t try to be efficient by sensing how much water I needed and running loads where the clothes on the top of the pile remained bone-dry and covered in laundry detergent.

It just filled to the top and went to town.

It agitated the hell out of my stinky, sweaty gym clothes so that when I took them out they were—joy of joys!—no longer stinky and sweaty.

If I put in my dirty sneakers, it just ran them.  I didn’t have to “balance the load” with some old towels.

And it did not walk across the basement floor if I put too many beach towels in.

It didn’t lock the lid after it began its cycle so that when I pulled open the lid to throw in a final item, I didn’t break the lock and void the warranty.

(Although that one’s probably on me as the installer warned me…)

And it did not have any computer chips in it.  Just beautiful knobs to turn and pull, each with a satisfying mechanical click.  No motherboard to blow after five years with a diagnosis of “it’d be cheaper to just buy a new one than repair it.”

That Kenmore lasted 40 years until it just wore out.

The only one who can make them like they used to is you, Santa.

In fact, Santa, I don’t even mind if you send some elf dumpster diving to find that original washing machine I so carelessly threw away just because it didn’t work.

I’ll find someone to fix it.

I’ll 3-D print the broken parts if I need to.

Please, Santa. 

You’re my last hope.